Inquire, Inspire, Aspire
Things are still hectic around here, but I thought I’d post a little something I did on my staycation by playing a game with my (rank) amateur photos. What’s the difference between this body of water above and the one below? Hint: The answer is not the watermarked year.
Continue reading “Coasts, Canines and Crafts”
Even after many years living in the south, I still didn’t forget what it was like to live in the great white north. Except, some little things did slip my mind. There have also been new developments that I’ve needed to learn.
Many years ago, when my husband and I were still newlyweds, we moved far, far away from family and friends.
Those who follow me know we went from the Chicago area, to Florida, but I never shared why.
You see, it was becoming more and more difficult to afford the cost of living in Chicago. My husband was a blue collar worker where he was either forced to join a union, or work for petty wages outside of a union. Neither choice was good, and here is why.
This is not an after-Christmas, Christmas post about comfort and joy during the holidays. It’s about something else entirely.
The last time I posted about the unbearable heat at Christmas in Florida, I never dreamed I’d be living in the north two years later. Even though I wanted to move, I didn’t think it would actually happen.
We’ve been in our new, old hometown for five months now. For those of you who haven’t read here before, I call it my new, old hometown, because twenty-seven years ago I moved away from where I grew up. Now I’m back.
You knew it was coming…my observations on life and the differences between the two states where I’ve lived. First half of my life I lived in Illinois . . .
… what (the hell) did you move to Illinois from Florida for … they’ll be a viral video of a short, 
middle-aged lady screaming at someone like a raving maniac.
I got to smell my favorite flowers for the first time in twenty-seven years. Lilacs. We moved back north just in time for the colorful spring.
My husband and I were in our twenties when we first moved to Florida from Chicago. We settled in a nice central location. We lived 50 miles from the gulf beaches and about 65 miles from the infamous theme parks. Being so young at the time, we frequented them all.
Have you ever heard anyone in the USA called a Cracker? It usually refers to someone from the south, right? A redneck?
Well, since I’m leaving Florida soon (you can read about the move here), I thought I’d share now about how the term Cracker originates from the state of Florida.
Today I thought we’d have a little fun with photography and art.
I have two close friends, and they both live 1,200 miles away. I have other friends, but none of them have gotten to know the deepest me, like those two. And, they stuck around anyway.
A week ago, one of them came from Chicago to visit me here in Florida. I’m taking a break (<-No pun intended) from the series about my husband’s broken feet. This post is a light-hearted look at some photos from my friend’s visit.
I’m not a fan of Valentine’s Day. I feel like it’s a superficial way to force couples to remember each other. And, somehow it seems like it’s all the man’s responsibility to do something to celebrate. Anyway, I prefer when the love flows naturally. We ignore the holiday by attending a fun filled food affair (can you tell I like alliterations?).
Continue reading “Return to the scene of a Valentine’s Day non-Date”
Sometimes pink pelicans wade silently on the surface of the lake in my neighborhood.
I thought you northerners might find it funny to see how Florida tries to bring winter to Christmas. For people who claim to love not having snow and cold, they sure go to great lengths during the holiday season to bring it here. See the snow at about 35 seconds in. How do they do it? Scroll below the video and I’ll tell you.
I was born and raised in Chicago, so when I moved to Florida (many years ago), I had a lot to learn about this state. From the environment, to the culture, to the chameleons, to the lack of four seasons, and … the bugs!
I wrote a little about this in my post Look, Up in the Sky. And, in my poem, Infestation. Except, I failed to mention one new-bug-learning-experience.
Where do those stairs lead to in the picture above? Are those minuets sticking up above them? Let’s climb to the top and see what’s beyond.
Lori's Lane 